


Champions of Freedom, Purveyors of Hope, Defenders of Happy Meals

by cjmarlowe



Category: League of Extraordinary Gentlemen: America 1988
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Yuletide 2010, monster killing, the glory of the 80s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 20:21:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/141379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjmarlowe/pseuds/cjmarlowe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Max Zorin unleashes a deadly bioweapon known as the mogwai in an effort to sabotage his competition in the microchip industry, the results get out of hand more quickly than he could imagine. Dr. Emmett Brown and the reformed League of Extraordinary Gentlemen are on the job, but this might be their most dangerous challenge yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Champions of Freedom, Purveyors of Hope, Defenders of Happy Meals

**Author's Note:**

  * For [calliopes_pen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/calliopes_pen/gifts).



Doc Brown's final thoughts, as he clung to the fire extinguisher and squeezed his eyes shut, were that if he had to come to his end at the mercy of a horde of gremlins, he couldn't have found a finer group of people to spend these final moments with.

The five of them already been through so much together. The vampire threat to America that brought them together had only been the beginning of it. After the Lost Boys there'd been that unpleasant business with Gozer cultists, and after that averting a deadly superflu before it could sweep the planet. But now they came to this: up against a plague of creatures unleashed by the Zorin Corporation to eliminate their competition, creatures which were now at least two generations beyond the control of their masters. Out of tricks, out of ammo and nearly out of options.

Doc could have told Zorin that it was a terrible idea to begin with, but megalomaniacs seldom listened to reason.

"Oh Lisa," he said, pressing his cheek to the cool, red metal. "I think I'll miss you the most."

 

> Emmett Brown had never been known to play nicely with the government. He hadn't actually had a lot of occasion to play with the government in any way, nicely or not, but it was a general truth that he didn't like to be told what to do and how to do it, and governments tended to want to do that to a man. But when a mysterious military official showed up at your door and told you that your country needed you, that you were the only man for the job, it was hard even for Emmett Brown to say no.
> 
> General Abernathy was the one to tell him about Lisa, though "about" her was overstating the interaction. What Doc actual got was a summary of the threat and a list of names of people with "talents of interest to our purposes," some of them familiar and some of them less so, with Lisa No-Last-Name right at the top of it.
> 
> What he knew was that she was likely to be the most beautiful woman in the room, which he didn't think was adequate criteria to go on until she walked through the door and everyone in the lounge turned to look.
> 
> She couldn't have known he was here looking for her, Doc hadn't even attempted to make contact before arriving, yet she still made her way to the stool next to his and leaned on the bar looking straight at him.
> 
> "So what's a scientist like you doing in a place like this?"
> 
> Doc coughed into his glass of water. "Lisa, I presume?"
> 
> "I do like a man who calls me by name," she says. "Buy me a drink?"
> 
> "Of course," he says quickly. "Of course. Barkeep, whatever the lady desires."
> 
> "Scotch," she said without missing a beat. "Neat."
> 
> "Miss...Lisa," he said gravely as she smiled at him and waited for his drink. "Your country needs you."
> 
> " _My_ country?" she said lightly. "Are you sure?"
> 
> The accent was unmistakable, though he had the feeling she wasn't talking about just that. Doc hadn't really prepared himself for this eventuality, and drained half his water in a big gulp while reformulating his plan. "I'm told you might be available to aid in an endeavor of the greatest importance."
> 
> "It's possible," she said, accepting her drink with a flirtatious wink at the balding bartender. "I guess that would depend on who's asking, and what you'd like me to do."
> 
> "Nothing illegal or untoward, I assure you."
> 
> "Maybe I _like_ illegal and untoward," she said. "You haven't asked me yet."
> 
> "Oh. Well. That is to say...the general says that you're a woman of many skills...."
> 
> "I don't care what some fussy general says," she said, reaching closer and loosening his collar. "What do _you_ think of my skills, Doc?"
> 
> Doc groped for something to say. "Another drink?"
> 
> "For me or for you?" she said. "You need to loosen up a little. Have a little bit of fun."
> 
> "So are you willing to help?"
> 
> "Are you asking me to help?"
> 
> "I think our intentions are pretty clear, Miss...Lisa."
> 
> "Are _you_ asking me to help?" she said again. "Do you want me to help you, Doc?"
> 
> "Yes," he found himself saying. "Yes I do."
> 
> "Then I'll help," she said, and leaned back and took a satisfying sip of her scotch. "Tell me all about your troubles."

 

"What, I'm not pretty enough for you?" said Jack, lobbing something at the creatures and, from the subsequent noise, making a direct hit. On _what_ , Doc couldn't be sure, and he wasn't opening his eyes to check. Well, maybe just one.

Immediately spotting one of the creatures swinging from the wires that used to power the fluorescent light overhead made him regret that decision. They'd dispatched countless gremlins already, but every time they thought they were close to victory, more arrived.

"You do lack something in that department," said Doc, turning away again and pressing his back to the filing cabinet, the extinguisher still in his arms after all other weapons had failed.

"Yeah, but I make up for it in pure skill," he said, hurling a stapler at the gremlin's head.  
"You always have had a certain je ne sais quoi."

 

> "That," said the man they call Jack Burton, "is one _hell_ of a car."
> 
> Doc tapped the hood proudly, then leaned against it and crossed his arms over his chest. "You have excellent taste."
> 
> He wasn't entirely clear on Jack's skills either, but they were at least more transparent than Lisa's. It hadn't been front page news, but Doc'd heard of the Chinatown Event long before General Abernathy'd put Jack's name on a list.
> 
> "You want to tell me what the hell it's doing boxing my truck in?"
> 
> "There wasn't anywhere else to park," said Doc, "but this will only take a minute—"
> 
> "Move your damn space car."
> 
> "I think you'll want to hear what I have to—"
> 
> "You think I can't crush it like a bug? Gimme one good reason."
> 
> "Actually, given the strength of the frame of the car, the size of your wheels, and the very short distance between them, I'm pretty sure you're exaggerating the danger, but all the same—"
> 
> "If you don't get to the point soon, I'm going to prove you wrong."
> 
> "Jack Burton, your country needs you."
> 
> "Yeah?" he said, and Doc didn't miss his chin going up a little bit. He wasn't the best observer of human nature, but he knew pride when he saw it. This one was going to be an easy sell. "Needs good ol' Jack, huh?"
> 
> "Desperately," he said. "I'm assembling a team of five specialists in their fields to take on what might be the gravest danger this country has ever faced."
> 
> "Well why didn't you just say so?" said Jack, pulling his keys out of his pocket and whirling them on his finger. "Where are we going and what do I need to do?"
> 
> "Just hop in the car and I'll explain on the way," said Doc, reaching for the handle. "I still have to gather some of the others."
> 
> "Five specialists, you said? Have you ever tried to fit five people in a DeLorean?" said Jack. "No way, Doc. We're taking _my_ ride."

 

"We've got a plan," said MacGyver, sliding across the tile floor on his ass as a hail of tacks came down around him and coming to a halt directly beside Doc so he could speak in his ear.

"Who's we?"

"Me and the guys," said Mac, as though Doc should know who the guys were. The only guys he knew were flanking him right now, with B.A. taking shots from behind a nearly unhinged door. "How much copper wire can you get your hands on?"

"How much wire can I get my hands on?" said Doc. "Do I look like I can get my hands on any wire right now?"

"Sure you can, Doc," said MacGyver, clapping him on the shoulder with one hand. "We've been in tighter scrapes than this."

"I'm not sure we have," said Doc, but maybe that was the cornered-behind-a-filing-cabinet panic speaking. If he stopped to think about it, he'd probably been in tighter scrapes. And knowing Mac, he was almost certain _he_ had, which was a comfort.

 

> The first time Doc Brown laid eyes on Angus MacGyver, he was hanging from the side of a building with a chewing gum wrapper in one hand and a length of metal cable wrapped around his foot. Three minutes later half the wall was gone, he was safely on the ground, and the criminals were in custody. Doc knew in an instant that this was the right man for the team.
> 
> "Mr. MacGyver," he said. "I have a proposition for you."
> 
> "Can it wait about five minutes?" he said. "Give me a chance to clean up?"
> 
> "Oh, a little bit of dust never hurt anybody," he said. "Not lately, anyway. Well, not this particular kind of dust, unless there are some residual explosives."
> 
> "That urgent, huh?" he said. "Sure, hit me with it."
> 
> "Your country needs you."
> 
> "My country always needs me," sad MacGyver. "What do you think got me here in the first place?"
> 
> "An overdeveloped sense of responsibility?" suggested Doc. "It's possible it's a pathological conditional. Tell me, do you have any other symptoms?"
> 
> "Yeah, I'm not real worried about that," said MacGyver. "So who are you, and what does my country need me for?"
> 
> "A mission of great importance," said Doc. "Maybe the most important thing you've ever done."
> 
> "I gotta tell you, it's up against some pretty stiff competition," said MacGyver, brushing his hands off. "You know, we've usually got these channels they like you to go through when you need my help."
> 
> "This would be outside of your usual contracts," said Doc, "whatever those might be, and I do not need the details of any eyes-only missions of yours."
> 
> "Good, because I wasn't going to give you any," said MacGyver. "No offense, but I'm not convinced yet that you're not off your rocker."
> 
> "Well, we're all a little crazy," said Doc, "but that has nothing to do with this. My name is Dr. Emmett Brown, Mr. MacGyver, and I need your help."
> 
> "Let me give you the number of somebody you can call, Doc—"
> 
> "No, let _me_ give you the number of someone you can call," said Doc, patting down his pockets until he found the card, yanking it out and staring at it for a moment, even though he had the number committed to memory. The general's name leant credibility to his tale, and it was a tale that did need some credibility. "The country is at stake, Mr. MacGyver, in ways you cannot even imagine."
> 
> MacGyver flipped the card over in his fingers a few times, staring at the number and staring back at Doc a few times.
> 
> "You seem like a decent kind of a fellow," he said finally, "and my gut tells me you're telling the truth. Tell you what, give me a few minutes to settle things here, and you've got my ear."
> 
> The story he had to tell might have been pretty crazy, but MacGyver's ear was all he needed. For a start.

 

Still clinging to the fire extinguisher like a security blanket, and unprotected from the constant rain of debris from the nasty creatures, Doc pulled his collar up to protect his head as much as he could and crawled from the safety of his filing cabinet. It might have been a suicide mission, but at least it was something to do. At least one part of his clothing was ignited on his journey from the cabinet to the door, but it was subsequently extinguished before he even arrived by a mass of goo that also landed on him, one he could only hope, given their surroundings, was non-toxic.

"Damn fool," said B.A. when he arrived. "What'd you go and do that for?"

"I'm on a mission," said Doc. "A very specific hunting and gathering mission, the purpose of which is yet unknown to me."

"You telling me you don't know what you're doing here?"

"I'm telling you I know what I'm doing, just not why," said Doc, "but I have faith that it will prove imperative to the cause."

"Damn fool," said B.A., who always did get to the heart of the matter.

 

> The hardest part of recruiting B.A. Baracus was getting him without getting his team. They worked as a unit, and it was a unit that did not play well with others. If you got one, you got all of them, even that crazy one Doc was secretly fond of. He had an in with them, thanks to their intervention in the Libyan situation, but that meant that he owed them and they didn't owe him.
> 
> "How'd you find me?" was the first thing B.A. said to him. Not the most promising beginning, but far from the worst Doc had ever encountered.
> 
> "I have my ways," said Doc, which was not the right answer when you were dealing with a former commando on the run. B.A. stood up from where he'd been tinkering on his car, and it felt like he was about twelve feet tall and almost as wide when he looked Doc down. "I need your help."
> 
> "You need to talk to Hannibal about that," he growled.
> 
> "No, I need _your_ help," said Doc. "I was sent here by General Abernathy."
> 
> "What the hell?" said B.A. "You were sent by some general?"
> 
> Doc's foot was apparently so far inside his mouth he could probably kick his kidneys.
> 
> "He's not interested in the team," he said quickly. "He's not that kind of general."
> 
> "They're all that kind of general."
> 
> "Trust me—"
> 
> "I don't trust anybody," said B.A. "Specially not some fool who gets himself in trouble with some Libyans."
> 
> "Your country needs you, B.A."
> 
> "I've done my duty for my country," said B.A., "and look what my country gave back to me."
> 
> "The _kids_ need you."
> 
> "The kids?" said B.A. Doc suddenly became far less worried he was about to be pistol whipped. "What about the kids?"
> 
> "Give me a chance and I'll tell you," said Doc. He really wished now that he'd _started_ with that.

 

Doc's wire-gathering mission quickly devolved into crouching behind a trash can and clutching his fire extinguisher again when a river of chemical stew started flowing towards him. He couldn't be entirely sure from his new vantage point, but he thought he saw it eating through the floor.

"Tell General Abernathy that I'm sorry I failed him."

"Tell him yourself," said Lisa, grabbing his arm and hauling him up. "Ready? Aim. Fire!"

Doc was neither ready nor aimed, but he fired the extinguisher anyway in the general direction of the nearest creatures, and the force of the blast sent a pair of them flying into an industrial sink which immediately began to bubble.

"No!" he said. "No! I've just made more of them!"

All the effort they'd gone to, all the sacrifices they'd made so far to contain the remaining gremlins to this one room, and Doc went and started the cycle all over again.

"Oh, don't worry," said Lisa. "It's not full of water anymore. It's acid."

"It's what?" said Doc, but sure enough the gremlins were screeching and dissolving into the liquid and Doc was starting to think that maybe they wasn't on the verge of demise after all. Flaming debris hitting his garbage can notwithstanding.

"Come on," said Lisa, and hauled him bodily through the door to his right, slamming it shut behind them.

Everything felt shockingly quiet for a moment as Doc came to realize that the team had managed to regroup in some kind of coffee room, behind a currently solid door and with a little breathing room. And what was more, the "guys" weren't a euphemism or a figment of MacGyver's imagination but a group of what appeared to be students, now standing at Mac's side and looking over a set of plans drawn in chalk on a wooden desktop.

"Welcome to the war room, Doc," he said, looking up and then waving him over. "Come help us with this. You've got the head for it."

"Or I've got an idea," said Jack. "How about we just go back in time to before Zorin shipped the first gremlin and stop it from ever happening?"

"We've been through this time and _again_ ," said Doc, instantly agitated. "Actions like that have repercussions you can't even begin to _imagine_."

"Yeah, yeah," said Jack. "We stop the gremlins and the future savior of the universe is never born."

"That could very well be," said Doc, suddenly much more motivated to check out Mac's plan and find a way out of this predicament. Because he certainly did have the head for it, and he knew his place on this extraordinary team of theirs.

This whole thing had started pretty quietly for a League mission, all things considered. It started with a cluster of nuisance attacks—mechanical malfunctions, traffic accidents and freak mishaps—that they traced to a mysterious bioweapon known as the mogwai. The sweet appearance of the creatures enabled them to infiltrate almost anywhere before they underwent a terrifying metamorphosis into the malevolently mischievous gremlins, which made them all too ideal for sabotage.

There were few enough at first that the League suspected they might not be leading to anything bigger, until Jack's Chinatown contacts helped them track down a single source for all of the creatures: Max Zorin, head of Zorin Industries, who'd been importing them as part of an ostensibly charitable campaign of children's giving.

If he was being used for some larger force, then cuddly pets that turned into monsters were a pretty horrible birthday surprise for unsuspecting children, and if it was intentional, well, that was even worse.

That was enough to get them off and running, through the tech businesses of Silicon Valley, the antique shops of New York City, and judicious fact-finding trip through time that landed them at a warehouse in South Dakota where it became clear that the whole thing was indeed an elaborate plot to sabotage microchip research and development leaving Zorin Industries alone at the top of the food chain.

They took care of the warehouse (and the less said about that, the better) but they weren't quite in time to stop the first large-scale shipment from going out to one of his primary targets: Adams University, home of the Atoms and the best computer department in the country.

The last of the gremlins were contained right now, but Doc could only guess how long that was going to last. The Atoms probably weren't going to be any help, but from the looks of it the computer department had shown up to lend a hand.

"Do you really think it's a real bright idea to leave them loose in a chemistry lab?" asked Jack.

"It's a student lab. They can't do _too_ much harm," said MacGyver.

The statement was punctuated by a small explosion that shook the floor.

"Let me see those plans," said Doc, pulling himself together and dropping the fire extinguisher and squeezing in between a short guy—was he even old enough to be in college? Times sure had changed—and a young lady with messy pigtails. "What have we got?"

"We've got to stop them before they get out of this building and destroy all our hard work," said one of the guys. Doc didn't ask for a name, and none was forthcoming.

"We've got to stop them before they get out of that _room_ ," said his friend. "What's keeping them in there?"

"Curiosity," said Doc. "Doors."

"You know they're probably surrounding this place right now," said B.A. "That's what I'd do. They've got us all in one spot, all they've got to do is lob a grenade in here and we're toast."

"Well isn't that a pleasant thought," said Lisa. "It's a good thing most schools don't keep a supply of grenades on hand."

"You sure about that?"

"Reasonably certain," said one of the guys at the table. "I can't speak for the frat houses, though."

"They could be mixing something up in there," said Jack. "They're clever bastards." The small explosion suddenly seemed like an ominous precursor to what was to come.

"Did you get the wire, Doc?" Mac asked, taking control over the conversation again. Doc pulled a tangle of cords and wires out of his coat, some of them useful, some of them not.

"As much as I could tear out of anything that stood still long enough," he said. "Is this enough?"

"That'll do," said the kid, taking it off his hands and dumping it on the table. The sound of maniacal laughter outside the door made them all move a little faster.

Doc examined the diagram start to finish, though it wasn't complicated enough to need more than a passing glance to understand exactly what they were going for. "Do you think this is going to work?"

"Well, I'm not exactly an expert," said Jack, "but I'd be willing to bet they'll go for it. And if they don't, let's go find those grenades."

"Alleged grenades," said Lisa.

"One way or another, they're not leaving this place, but I'd just as soon do it without blowing the building up. I think this plan's got a shot."

"All right," said Lisa, "go on, someone break into the vending machine. You all know you want to be the one to do it."

About a half dozen people looked at one another for a moment, then made a mad dash for the machine in the corner with whatever heavy implement came to hand, from empty semi-automatic weapons to a dress shoe. The machine put up little resistance.

Doc avoided the mad dash and instead set himself to work stripping and twisting wires, humming to himself as he got into the rhythm of the job. The specs were sound, the plan was foolhardy, and he was all aboard with it at this point.

"That's the spirit," said Mac, clapping him on the back.

"I was cobbling things together before you were conceived, Mr. MacGyver," Doc reminded him. His hands might not be as fast as they once were, but his mind was as quick as ever. "We've got a lot of this stuff to get through, and not a lot of time. Have you got a delivery mechanism in mind?"

"We'll worry about that when the time comes," said Mac. "I can always make a lasso if it comes down to it."

"If you're worried about how to get it into the other room," said the young lady as the guys returned laden with prepackaged food, "maybe we can use my roller skates."

"I didn't know you roller skated," said one of the guys, dumping his load on the plans.

"I just started," she said. "Some of my sisters have been doing it for exercise. It's really a lot of fun."

"Maybe we can do it together some time—"

"If I could just wrangle your attention back to the plan," said Mac. "You've really got a pair of roller skates on you?"

"Uh huh, they're in my bag," she said, and sure enough, when she slung her enormous bag off her shoulder, there was a pair of roller skates inside.

"Wow, you really come prepared for anything," said Mac. "I think we can work with that, but I wouldn't count on getting them back in one piece."

"As long as _we're_ in one piece," she said. "And Gilbert's work."

They'd sent a message to the school ahead of their arrival, to warn them of the threat, but when they showed up it was clear nobody'd taken it seriously. Nobody but these students, apparently, who showed more brains and bravery than anyone else on campus. Though the brains part was questionable when they'd clearly dived right in to the deep end of a firefight.

"Yeah, we're working on that," said Mac. "Jack, you wanna take charge of food delivery?"

"Wouldn’t be the first time," said Jack, throwing back his shoulders and strutting over to them. Ladies. Gentlemen." He paused. "Kids. What are you doing here?"

"I _go_ here," said the kid. Seriously, he didn't even look old enough to be in high school. "I helped engineer this."

"Riiiight," said Jack. "Well, Braniac, how about you help engineer us into some ripe egg salad sandwiches?"

"On it," said the kid, tackling the mound of cellophane. "Are we going to use _all_ of this?"

"I wish we had more," said Mac. "Anyone carrying snacks might want to contribute them to the cause right about now." That actually got them three brown bags and a bag of what looked like weed, though Doc suspected no self-respecting college kid would give that up, even in the face of gremlins.

"You guys might want to hurry the hell up," said B.A. "I think they're gonna migrate soon and we aren't out there to stop them."

"The smart one knows where they're supposed to go," said Lisa, "I just don't think he cares all that much. But when they lose interest in making things go boom, we lose them."

"We're working as fast as we can over here," said Mac. "This is highly technical business."

"You're wedging food onto copper wire."

" _You_ wanna do it?" said Mac. Jack and B.A. went back to guarding the doors. "Yeah, that's what I thought. How straight do these roller skates go?"

"Not very straight while I'm on them," she said. "They're not broken or anything, though."

"Do they veer to the left or the right?"

"A little to the right," she said, "or maybe our sidewalk is just kind of sloped. It might be sloped."

"We're just going to have to take that chance," said Mac, rigging the end of the wire to one of the roller skates. "Probably doesn't matter all that much anyway. We've got a whole room full of targets, as long as it makes it to the other side."

"We ready to go yet?" barked B.A.

"Just hold your horses," said Mac as they all worked to get the trap baited. "We're almost there."

"We're almost _dead_."

"Well, things could be worse," said Doc, now that he had a little bit more perspective on the situation. The perspective of four walls between himself and the creatures, for the moment.

"How?"

"It could be a man-sized fly out there trying to get in here and dissolve us all."

"I'm not actually sure that's worse," said Mac. "That's a tough one."

"Or werewolves," said Jack. "I hate werewolves. Sure, the werewolves of Beacontown turned out to be a friendly bunch, but as for the rest of them, bring on the silver bullets."

"I still think we should've called Dutch in on this mission," said Lisa. "He's got expertise in this area."

"We don't know for sure these creatures are extra-terrestrial in origin," said Doc. "Besides, Dutch is still cleaning up the Guatemala situation. Nasty business down there."

"Yeah, we only _wish_ we were at the cleaning up stage," said Jack as a roller skate sailed by them.

"Nope, no pulling to the right," said Mac. "Just a slight wobble. It ought to do the trick better than a lasso."

"I'd like to have seen you lasso copper wire, though," said Lisa. "That would've been some trick."

"You haven't seen half the tricks I can do yet," said Mac, winking at her as they got into position by the door. "All right, we're ready to try this. Everyone ready?"

There were a few readies, a couple of nervous coughs, and the sound of someone hiding under a table. It was probably as ready as they were going to get. Doc grabbed his fire extinguisher again, still his weapon of last resort, and prepared himself for the door to open.

The chemistry lab was a nightmare of creatures, hanging off fixtures, pouring volatile liquids out of beakers, fighting over lab coats, and relishing every time something burst into flames. And into the chaos, Mac calmly sailed a single roller skate, trailing a length of copper wire baited with vending machine food behind it.

"Now we wait," he said, but they didn't have to wait long. If there was one thing gremlins liked to do more than anything else, it was eat.

Within moments two of them were fighting over the heavily-baited roller skate itself, zigging and zagging it all over which in turn pulled more and more of the copper wire into the room.

"It's working," said one of the guys, one of the braver ones who stood by them at the door to look at the carnage.

"Of course it's working," said Jack, like it had been his idea to begin with.

"The food's not going to hold out very long," said Doc. "Have they all taken the bait?"

"Just about," said Mac. "Just about. Just a few...more...moments... _now_!"

Behind them, Lisa jammed the other end of the wire train into the outlet, sending a surge of power throughout the line, and through each and every gremlin.

"All right," said B.A. as they watched them shudder and fry. "I'm going in to get any stragglers."

The electrocution took out most of the swarm, and those few that stumbled away from the wire in a blackened daze were soon dispatched with chemicals, garrotes, and in one case Doc was particularly proud of, a fire extinguisher.

"Wow," said the kid when it was all said and done. "So are you guys recruiting?"

"Get back to me in the few years," said Doc. They did have their eye on a young FBI agent in the Violent Crimes unit, but the world was just too unpredictable to know who they'd be needing, a few years down the line.

"Go!" Mac interrupted them. "Go check the computer department! Make sure none of them got over there!"

The last thing Doc expected was a bunch of college kids to go off after these things on their own, but he was apparently still underestimating them and their protectiveness over their pet department.

Those of them that remained, just the five members of the League, stepped out of the decimated laboratory and checked the corridors, rooms and offices for any sign of gremlins. But there wasn't so much as a peep, and gradually they all began to relax. All except Lisa, who'd been relaxed about it all along.

"What if there are more of those damn things around where we can't see?" said Jack. "Crawling around in the ducts and chewing through the pipes."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," said Lisa. "It's all taken care of."

"How's it all taken—?" B.A. started, and stopped dead as he turned around.

He might've been the strong, silent type—Doc's not sure he would have called him that, but others did—but going speechless wasn't his style, so Doc turned around too. Along with everyone else. And as they watched, tables righted themselves, windows mended, puddles of sizzling chemicals zapped back into their respective jars and the bodies of a whole lot of fried gremlins vanished.

"Wait, could you have done that all along?" said Jack. "Snapped your fingers like Mary Poppins and made everything right again?"

"Do I look like Mary Poppins to you?" said Lisa. "I'm just doing a little cleaning up after you boys, since you're not likely to do it yourselves, are you? You certainly haven't in the past. There, that should do it."

The building looked like they'd never been there at all. In fact, remembering his own college days, Doc would bet it looked better now than it had before they arrived, with everything in its place and every scratch mended. Every time he thought he'd begun to understand what the mysterious Lisa was all about, she went and pulled off something like _this_.

"Well, what now boys?"

"I could sure as hell use a drink," said Jack. "Anyone else in?

"I'm driving," said B.A.

"Like hell you are," said Jack. "My rig, I drive, end of story."

Doc let the familiar conversation roll right off his back as they stepped out of the building and into the Arizona night, brushing dust and guts off his jacket and wondering if he was going to make it back to Hill Valley in time to catch Marty while he was home from college for the weekend.

Sometimes he didn't entirely understand how they managed to pull these things off, but it was clearly another job well done.


End file.
